How to Charm a Witch Who Hates You
by hiyoris-scarf
Summary: You will need 1) a destroyed racing broom, 2) a concussion, and 3) several metric tons of hippogriff manure.
1. The Incident With the Firebolt

**A byproduct of yatorihell's HP x Noragami AU, with inspiration from paperypiper's beautiful artwork.**

* * *

One of Yato's many talents is the ability to excuse himself from any and all wrongdoing—particularly when he's in the middle of it. In this case, that would be picking the lock of the racing broom closet with a hairpin.

 _Just ten minutes._ That's all he wants.

The ancient lock clangs open, and Yato's face splits in a demonic grin. That's what they get for locking up their broomsticks with magic, and nothing more muggle-secure.

And there it is, right at the front of the closet, all polished, gleaming…practically seductive. It's a marvel of aerodynamics; the precision of craftsmanship alone giving him chills. It's the only Firebolt he's ever seen.

Yato's fingers tremble as he reaches for it.

"So, should I go get the headmaster—or are you planning to turn yourself in after this?" comes an irritated bark from immediately behind him.

Yato whirls, arranging his face into an approximation of innocent surprise. His one-person audience doesn't buy it.

"Yukine! I thought you were—um—going to the Great Hall—"

"That was before I saw you sneaking off, looking even more suspicious than usual," the other boy counters. He looks pointedly at the hairpin dangling from Yato's hand. "Where'd you even learn how to pick a lock?!"

"None of your business."

Yukine growls. "If you get yourself expelled—"

Tuning him out, Yato lifts the Firebolt gently from its bed in the closet, savoring the smoothness of the varnish under his fingers.

As soon as the broom is clear, the closet door slams shut by itself. The lock clatters heavily against the door's weathered wood, then re-seals with a small shower of silver sparks. Yato and Yukine exchange glances.

"Oh, no…" Yato mutters.

"I can't even begin to tell you how much you deserve this," sniffs Yukine, adjusting his Hufflepuff tie with an insufferable little shoulder wiggle. Then he too freezes as heavy footsteps echo along the corridor.

"Who's tampering with the broom closet this time?" comes Kiun's long-suffering voice from around the corner.

Quickly straddling the Firebolt, Yato mouths at Yukine: _Gotta run_. The broom hums in his hands like a just-plucked violin string.

"Don't you _dare—_ " Yukine starts to scream-whisper.

But it's too late.

All it takes is a barely perceptible shift forward. The broom shoots out from the hallway, Yato clinging to it like a terrified spider. He does an accidental somersault while whipping by Kiun, and nearly scalps himself on the flagstones.

"Yato!" Yukine's voice follows him as he struggles to keep his hold on the wildly jerking Firebolt. "If you don't kill yourself on that thing, then _I'll_ do it, you sweaty moron…"

The rest of his tirade is lost in the distance, because Yato is already corkscrewing violently down the narrow corridor that opens up near the Great Hall. His head brushes the chandelier, and nothing but a sharp jerk downward spares him from an accidental beheading.

The Firebolt careens past the opening to the Great Hall. Even at the speed he's going, Yato sees every head turn toward him.

"What _is_ that?"

"Oh my god…I think that's the Slytherin seeker!"

"Is he _crying—_?!"

Yato tries to yell that it's just the wind in his eyes, but when he opens his mouth, three flies shoot down his throat. His lips peel back from his teeth.

The Firebolt is so attuned to his movements, he only has to twitch a finger for it to speed down the nearest hallway leading to the exit. The enormous door is open _—_ he sees a light gray sky, blooming with blue. It beckons him like a flag of victory.

That is, until a dark figure appears silhouetted against the bright outdoors.

"Move, movemove _move_!" Yato shouts, hurtling at an uncontrollable pace toward the doorway and whoever is stupid enough to stop in front of it.

The person turns around, stiff with sudden shock. Yato's teeth slam together, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

Yato, the speeding Firebolt, and the stranger collide with a cartoonish _thwack_. Yato's death grip peels off from the broomstick, sending him flipping a complete three-sixty-degrees onto his stomach and the ground. He lands on something much softer than the flagstones, though his head still raps smartly against the floor. Bright agony splits his forehead open, pulsing all the way around to the back of his neck.

"Ungh…"

From somewhere outside his aches and his dizziness, Yato hears the Firebolt zoom straight into a wall with a crunch. It clatters to the floor nearby. He groans internally, trying not to imagine what the rest of the Quidditch teams are going to do to him once they find out he's wrecked the school's best broom…

The person responsible for his downfall struggles feebly beneath him.

"Why didn't you just move out of the way, huh?" Yato groans, the rough edges of the flagstones still cutting into his neck. In response, the person under him gives a small, high-pitched whimper of pain.

Yato goes completely rigid.

Dammit, _dammit—_

He lurches to his feet, stumbling backward a few steps. Everything in his vision tumbles in a sickening pinwheel, and the floor curtsies dramatically sideways.

The girl is still splayed on the floor, motionless. She's alarmingly white. Fighting his dizziness, Yato steps nearer to her. The red-and-gold colors of a Gryffindor scarf peak out the front of her robes, glaring starkly against her skin.

Mentally slapping himself back to equilibrium, Yato wipes a hand on his robe before reaching toward her shoulder. He prods her, gently.

"Um…" He pokes her again. "I'm…I'm sorry! Are you, uh—are you hurt—?"

He doesn't get a response.

For a horrified instant, Yato wonders if he's actually killed her—or, at the very least, given her permanent brain damage. He crouches down, shaking her a bit more firmly.

"I'm really, _really_ sorry," he repeats in desperation. "Oh my god—please don't be dead…"

He slides a cautious hand up her neck, checking for a pulse, and her entire body stiffens.

"Get off me!"

Something hard jabs into his ribs, and Yato yelps.

 _"Stupefy!"_

Flung ten meters backward by the spell, Yato lands in an absurd spread-eagle on top of the Firebolt. The handle splinters under his weight—much like the remains of his ego. Rubbing the second enormous goose egg rising on his skull, he scrambles to his feet.

"What the—what did you _stun_ me for?!" he wails, throwing his hands up in a show of surrender. The girl is standing up now, still aiming her wand at him. The expression on her tear-streaked face is downright murderous.

She's crying.

"You mean—besides nearly killing me on your stupid broom?" she hisses.

Yato notices how her wandless hand curls around her ribs, and his stomach plunges toward his gut. Ignoring her valid point, his wounded pride takes control of his mouth.

"Well—y-you could have moved! No one told you to stand in the middle of the road like that—"

Her wand hand starts quivering dangerously, and Yato's teeth snap shut.

"Get _away_ from me."

Her voice quivers with rage and humiliation. Yato backtracks.

"Are you…" He swallows loudly. "You're… _sure_ you're okay? I mean, um—"

To add further embarrassment to his floundering, a bustle from the mouth of the nearest corridor tells Yato that dinner in the Great Hall is coming to an end. Their little scene will soon have an audience.

Yato also finds it rather interesting that the whole world seems to be swirling counterclockwise.

Then _he's_ the one going counterclockwise.

Then, everything is dark.

: : :

"You're awake."

He's not, really. It takes a few seconds for him to figure out where his eyes are, and then a few more trying to open them.

"Nngh."

Yukine is sitting next to his bed in the hospital wing, leaning back in a chair with his arms crossed.

"You had a pretty bad concussion, and some other cuts and bruises. Mayu said it was a miracle you didn't get a more serious injury."

Yato's tongue feels thick and uncomfortable in his mouth—probably a side effect of whatever was used to heal him. Images and scattered memories from his accident start filtering back to him. Among them…

"That girl!" The volume of Yato's own voice causes the space behind his eyes to ring with agony. He winces, then whispers: "Is she okay?"

From the corner of his eye, he sees Yukine nod.

"Yes. She was released about half an hour ago. That was before you woke up."

Yato heaves a relieved sigh.

"Ugh. That's good…"

"What the hell happened?" Yukine asks, his question sharp with annoyance.

"What—you didn't figure it out?" Yato shoots back. "I hit another person while going full-speed on a racing broom. It seems like the whole school should have heard about it by now."

Yukine shifts in his seat, looking vaguely embarrassed.

"Well. Actually it was just me and Kiun who found the two of you and brought you here," Yukine admits. "I asked him if it would be okay to keep it, um…quiet for a little while. And…I also offered to help you work off the debt to him for wrecking the Firebolt. He's going to put both of us to work gathering fertilizer for the greenhouses, once you're back to normal."

Yato's eyes widen. He lifts his head, grinning toothily at Yukine.

"Wow—I really do owe you one."

His head pounds, and he lowers it to the pillow again.

At that moment, the magnitude of his behavior comes into stark focus. He really did it. He smashed a Firebolt. Into a person.

"Oh, no," he moans. "Oh, nooo…"

"Yeah, you _do_ owe me," Yukine asserts. "So now you have tell me what happened. That girl couldn't even look at you when she walked out of here."

Yato brings his hands up to his face, rubbing his throbbing temples with both fingers.

"I wouldn't really blame her for that, after I barreled into her at top speed," he sighs. "She did stun me, though. Which was really unnecessary, given that I was trying to help her…"

"She _stunned_ you?!"

"Yeah. Pretty bloody rude, if you ask me—"

"Wow. I can't even stun anyone yet," Yukine grumbles, obviously ignoring Yato's irritation.

" _Anyway_ ," Yato forces through gritted teeth. "All I did was run into her. I apologized and everything. And—if she left here before I woke up, she can't have been that badly hurt."

Yukine's uncertain expression says that he thinks otherwise.

"I don't know about that," he says. "I mean, when she left, she looked pretty upset."

Yato gives him a questioning look, and Yukine fidgets.

"I think…she might have been crying."

: : :

The next time Yato sees her, it's at the end of Tsuyu's Transfiguration class. He catches a glimpse of her sandwiched between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff girl. He knows her name now, after paying more attention during roll call than he ever has during the actual class.

"Hey," he calls. She doesn't turn.

"Hey, Hiyori Iki!" he tries again, louder. The Ravenclaw girl turns her head, and Yato catches her disgusted glare before she puts a comforting arm around Hiyori, guiding her away.

"Oh come on— _hey_!"

He starts trotting after them, his heavy book bag jostling against his ribcage. "I just wanted to see if—"

The air thrills next to his arm, and Yato hears the clatter of several heavy items hitting the floor. At the same time, his bookbag is abruptly much lighter.

Looking down, he sees the bag's reinforced seam has ripped wide open, spilling everything in his bag onto the floor. Ink blooms across the pages of several textbooks, and his foot lands on a snapped quill. Bending down, he lifts up the spine of his soggy potions book, which took the brunt of the spilled ink.

"My lucky bag…" he mourns, before looking up again. The retreating trio of girls still hasn't turned to face him.

But he does see Hiyori's wand pointed under her elbow—aimed straight back at him.

: : :

The message in that encounter could not have been more plain: _"Stay the hell away from me."_ So, naturally, Yato takes his usual approach of ignoring the message entirely and coming up with his own plan.

As far as he can tell, it's a flawless plan. But when he relays it to Yukine a few days later—

"Yeah, you and your dumb idea can definitely go stuff it."

Yato's crestfallen expression has no effect on his friend's answer. Yukine scratches the tip of his chin with a quill, staring at the participle dangling at the end of his History of Magic essay.

"Pleeease…?" Yato whines.

This time, Yukine responds with a silent, yet very expressive gesture that causes Yato to hide his face under the library table in order to regain his composure.

When he resurfaces, he's all seriousness again.

"Yukine, I _really_ need your help. Iki just…won't talk to me. I've _tried._ She's always with those other two girls—they both give me looks like they want to slit my throat in some dark alleyway."

"And this…surprises you?"

Yato moans, planting his forehead on the polished surface of the desk.

"I've apologized and _everything._ What am I gonna do? I can't have someone going around just hating me like that. I'll _never_ be popular!"

"Trust me Yato, that ship has sailed."

The frowning, pinched-looking librarian pokes her head around the nearest shelf and hisses at them to be quiet. Yukine bends over his book, muttering, while Yato stays securely faceplanted to the table.

When the coast is clear again, Yukine looks at the despondent Yato for a few seconds. Then he heaves a sigh, and prods Yato's ear with the tip of his wand.

"…Fine. I'll help you."

Yato's head rockets up from the table, causing Yukine to flinch from the whiplash of his mood shift.

"Really?!" Yato asks, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah. But—you have to help _me_ out, next."

"Anything! You're the best, Yukine!"

Yato sends his palm slamming into Yukine's spine so hard that the boy's forehead smacks the table. The resulting howl of agony summons the librarian, who swiftly shoos Yato and Yukine out of her domain with a few well-aimed, airborne hardcovers.

: : :

Yato drags Yukine into an empty classroom later that week.

"So…how's surveillance?" he hisses conspiratorially.

Yukine rubs his chin uncomfortably.

"Yato, I really don't like following her around. It feels weird."

Yato looks at Yukine like he's suddenly declared a soul-deep affinity with Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Well—obviously it's weird! That's why _you're_ doing it! I can't scare her off after already making a bad impression."

Shaking his head, Yukine drops into a seat at an empty desk.

"…I _did_ find out," he admits. Then, adding a little smugly: "I got her friend Yama to tell me. All I did was help her with her Charms homework and she basically told me Hiyori's life story."

He looks far too pleased with himself when he says:

"So your suggestions about sneaking around were pretty useless after all."

Yato rolls his eyes.

"Are you going to get to the point soon, or should I come back in twenty minutes?"

Yukine huffs in annoyance, but Yato gets the feeling that he's not dodging the issue just for the fun of it.

"Is it…bad?" he asks tentatively.

"A little bit. Yeah."

Yato's eyes widen. Then, he lifts himself up onto one of the nearby desks, crossing his legs beneath him.

"All the more reason to tell me."

Yukine averts his eyes, and something in his expression makes Yato wonder if he's really doing the right thing. Maybe he should just let Hiyori go on…despising him. The thought itself is so unpleasant that his stomach twists into a knot.

"Hey," he begins. "It's not like I'm going to make fun of her, or anything. I'm trying to perform a good deed!"

He grins down at Yukine, trying to lighten the mood. Yukine glances up at him skeptically, before puffing his cheeks and blowing the air slowly out. Then, he says:

"Okay…okay, sure."


	2. The Incident With the Jigging Jinxes

Yukine crosses his legs and leans back in the chair, like he's about to tell a very long, very involved story that Yato probably won't be able to understand.

"It all happened a few months ago, at the beginning of the term. Hiyori really wanted to try out for the Quidditch team, and she'd apparently done really well in her first lessons, but she was too busy last year with classes to make a go of it."

He pauses, shooting Yato a sharp glance.

"You know, Yato...Hiyori's muggle-born right?"

Yato's eyebrows go up.

"I didn't know," he admits. "Does that affect how good she is on a broomstick?"-then, wincing-

"Or how she keeps trying to jinx me every time we meet?"

"It doesn't!" Yukine says aggressively. "Just wondering if you knew."

Yato throws his hands up in mock defeat. "I didn't know! Sorry!"

Yukine narrows his eyes and leans back farther in his chair. Yato watches the front two legs leave the ground and briefly ponders kicking him over.

"Anyway, she wanted to try out," Yukine continues, "but some of the other players caught up with her while she was practicing and made fun of her. Called her…names. You know. Told her she would just humiliate herself and bring the team down. Two of them were from the Slytherin team. One was another Gryffindor."

Yato opens his mouth to ask a question, but stops himself when Yukine's voice gets quieter.

"I guess she stood up to them and said she was going to try out anyway. Then, they got pretty rough—forced her wand away then bewitched the broom she was on to zip itself out to the middle of the lake and left her there."

Yato stares. His mouth is suddenly very dry. Yukine chuckles humorlessly.

"Even though it ended up okay, obviously—she got spotted by Kiun when he was doing his night check and he got her safely to the hospital wing. She was frozen half-solid from clinging to her broom for hours. And now she won't go near one."

"A lake?" Yato cocks his head.

"No, Yato, a broom."

Yato doesn't pay attention to Yukine's irritated muttering, too deep in shock and disgust to be offended by it. It doesn't make sense to him. Iki doesn't seem like the type to be spooked off a broomstick for good.

"Is she scared of them now? Broomsticks?"

Yukine shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe."

Yato pauses, his forehead scrunching in thought.

"You found all this out just from her friend? Why haven't those three bullies been taught a lesson?!"

Yukine scratches his nose. "Hiyori wouldn't say who they were."

Yato rolls his eyes. Of course she wouldn't.

"Fine, but I don't see what that has to do with me. So I accidentally hit her with a broom. Big deal! I apologized!" Yato glances appealingly at Yukine, who raises an unsympathetic eyebrow. "I apologized…a lot?" he tries.

Still nothing. Yato growls.

"Not you too."

"She thinks you did it on purpose."

A shock jolts up Yato's spine. Yukine scratches his nose uncomfortably.

"Excuse me?"

"Well—what would _you_ think, Yato? You're on the same team as two of those people!"

Yato sputters.

"Doesn't mean I go around shoving bludgers down people's trousers just to keep them off the pitch!"

Yukine snorts, then pushes himself up out of the hard-backed chair.

"I know that, Yato. Not everyone else does."

Making an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, Yato follows Yukine out of the empty classroom.

"Well—I'll just have to _make_ her realize that."

Yukine sighs deeply, realizing that this will most likely result in more detention.

: : :

Several days later, Yato is trotting behind Kiun down to the creature pens, struggling to keep up with the gamekeeper's long strides.

"I get that Firebolts are expensive, and that crashing one into a wall was 'unforgivably careless of me,' and that I'm lucky you haven't packed me off on a train already...but would you at _least_ tell me what my detention is going to be? Please?"

Kiun doesn't respond, nor does he slow down. Yato tries to pick up his own pace, laboriously unsticking his shoes from the January mud. He doesn't venture to look up from his own feet until Kiun rounds a clump of dense pine trees, bringing them in sight of a large clearing. At first, Yato thinks the clearing is empty.

Then, something silvery and huge emerges from between the trees.

Yato blinks. His mouth falls slightly open.

Once he manages to find his jaw again, the silvery creature has trotted towards them and is nuzzling Kiun's robe in search of something. Yato snaps his mouth shut again as Kiun produces a slab of dripping steak from his robes and tosses it straight into the beast's mouth.

"That's a..."

Yato swallows a bit nervously.

"This is Buckbeak," Kiun says contentedly when Yato trails off. "And you're going to be his first full-time caretaker."

: : :

Shoveling hippogriff manure into buckets to use for fertilizer was fine for the first few hours, but three consecutive days into the task Yato is starting to curse Kiun and his torturously utilitarian punishments.

"How much does a hippogriff shit _anyway_?" he grumbles, nearly breaking his spine trying to lift an especially towering shovelful of the stuff.

The long hours shoveling droppings has given him time to really think about what Yukine told him, and to stop fuming enough to give himself some distance.

Hiyori hates him. That's probably fair enough to say.

What he doesn't know is how to make her stop.

Yato heaves a huge sigh—which is extremely unpleasant, considering his current environment. He leans heavily on the shovel, and tries to think. He's _smart_ , after all. Not Ravenclaw-smart, but…in his own way.

He can figure people out.

Most of the time.

Across the yard, the hippogriff—in whose droppings he's currently knee-deep—winks at him with one intelligent yellow eye.

"Stop gloating," Yato growls, and grunts while throwing another hefty shovelful. So far, Buckbeak has done not much else besides sleep, fly, eat, and…well...

Yato thumps the shovel upright into the ground and leans against it.

"If _you_ were that Hiyori girl, what would you want me to do?" he asks Buckbeak.

The hippogriff just winks again. Yato halfheartedly flicks mud at him with the toe of his boot.

"Stop that."

Yato hears the bell ringing up at the school, signaling the end of today's detention. He digs himself free from the soggy ground, scraping the bottoms of the heavy workboots Kiun gave him with a rusty trowel, all the while steadily ignoring the magical beast on the other side of the pen.

Buckbeak gives an annoyed huff, as though tired of being ignored. Then he pushes up to his feet, ruffling his massive wings majestically.

Yato turns at the sound, watching as Buckbeak gathers his powerful hindquarters. Suddenly, those huge wings spread with a rush of air, and the creature breaks from the earth, tail as smooth and silver as a streaking comet.

Watching Buckbeak soar his way toward the lake, Yato breaks into a grin.

A peace offering-something with his own unique flair.

Something thrilling, and creative, and probably...probably a serious risk to life and limb.

: : :

Yama pokes Hiyori's elbow during breakfast.

"What is it?" Hiyori asks, peeling her eyes away from her History of Magic review parchment.

"You have to help me," Yama whines.

Hiyori grimaces.

"Do I?"

"Yeah. There's a boy following me around and I need you to hit him with some of your famous hexes until he stops."

Hiyori casts her friend a doubtful glance, then reaches over her for the butter.

"Is this a _real_ boy?"

Yama pouts, slowly wilting forehead-first onto the wooden table.

"Of course he is! What, am I not cute enough to be stalked?!"

Hiyori resignedly pats Yama's back with one hand while stuffing the rest of the toast into her mouth with the other.

"You're definitely cute enough to be stalked." She sighs. "Fine, then. Who am I hexing?"

: : :

"Hey! Hey, over here!"

Yato starts waving his arms frantically as soon as he recognizes the small figure making its way down the hillside. He stops waving after a few seconds and waits for her to realize who he is. She does exactly this after about ten more steps, and stops short.

"Hi!" Yato calls cheerfully.

After a loaded second, Hiyori starts walking again.

Actually, she's running.

And she's furious. Yato feels his knees lock up.

"W-wait a min—"

"You're stalking my friends now?!" Hiyori bellows, aiming bright blue, rapid-fire jinxes at Yato's ankles that force him to vigorously tap-dance in place. "Nearly killing me wasn't quite enough for you? Are you trying to get yourself locked up-or get someone else hurt, _again_?!"

Yato's leg muscles convulse as Hiyori's spells force him into a rapid Irish jig.

"Stop-just let me talk!"

To his relief, Hiyori stops shooting jinxes at him. Instead, she takes two steps forward and socks him in the nose.

" _Gah!"_

Yato's head pops backwards, and his eyes seem to vibrate in their sockets. Stumbling backward, he holds up his arms to ward off his attacker. Slowly, the space between his ears stops ringing.

Holding his nose gingerly, he straightens his neck to look at Hiyori again. Her wandless arm is still cocked backward in a decidedly threatening pose, but she's waiting. Yato huffs through his mouth.

"I'm not following your friend, or anyone else. I only wanted to talk to you."

Hiyori's jaw twitches.

"Me?"

Yato snorts at the confusion in her voice, then hisses.

"Yes. Even though...I think you may have broken my nose."

"Why talk to _me_?"

"Oh, I'm sure my nose will get patched up perfectly. Thanks for your concern."

Hiyori ignores the acidic bite in his response, letting her arm drop back to her side.

"But...but Yama told me…"

"All that to get you here. Yes." Yato grimaces. "Though the 'stalking' bit was artistic license on her part."

He looks back up to find Hiyori glaring at him.

"Why should I believe you?" she says, gritting her teeth.

"Because I'm still trying to make conversation with you after you fractured my face."

And then, Yato catches it: the preliminary bubble of laughter that hiccups out of her. Hiyori sucks air between her lips, as though ashamed of the sound. She crosses her arms over her chest, forcing a skeptical frown back onto her face.

"Fair, I suppose. So, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

With the hand not holding his nose, Yato jerks a finger behind him.

"That."

Hiyori leans, peering around his body. Then she straightens again, glowering at him.

"Are you mocking me?"

Yato's calves sting from her jinxes, and his crooked nose gives a sharp throb.

"I wouldn't dare."

"It's an empty field," she says.

Yato smiles.

"Wrong!"

He takes out his wand with his free hand, flicking it to summon a hunk of something dark and squishy from a crate behind Kiun's cabin. The squishy hunk zooms toward both of them, then plops to the ground at Yato's feet. The thick, metallic smell of blood strikes both their nostrils, and Hiyori's nose wrinkles.

"Erm."

Yato puckers his lips, giving a shrill whistle that makes Hiyori flinch. The sound knifes, razorlike, through the cold air, and after it fades, there is another sound. The _whoosh_ and _thump_ of enormous wings.

"Wh-what..." Hiyori begins, then trails off to stare at the sky. Yato turns to follow her gaze.

A massive, storm-colored shadow wheels overhead, riding the wind down toward the earth as though catching the currents of a river. The hippogriff touches down almost silently, and canters toward them with his eyes fixed on the hunk of purpley-gray meat quivering next to Yato's boots.

"That's a-"

"Buckbeak!" Yato finishes proudly.

"-really big bird," Hiyori says, her jaw still hanging slightly open.

Buckbeak snorts loudly at what Yato can only imagine to be a rather insulting comment.

"She doesn't mean that." Yato pats Buckbeak's flank as he noses inquisitively at the meat. "You see, I've been assigned to care for him as part of my detention for...you know…"

"Destroying one of the most expensive pieces of school property?" Hiyori offers helpfully. "Risking your own neck for a thrill? Attempted homicide?"

Yato waves his hands at her, cringing.

"You're making yourself clear! All I was going to ask was-do you want to help me?"

For a moment, nothing can be heard but Buckbeak munching happily on the mystery meat.

"Do I want to...what?"

"Help me? With Buckbeak."

Hiyori looks from Yato, to the hippogriff, and back to Yato again. She stares at him with an expression implying he may have replaced his brain with gillyweed.

"No."

"…Come on."

"Absolutely. Not."

Yato pouts.

"You're not even going to give me a chance?"

Hiyori levels a withering stare at him.

"At least give _him_ a chance." Yato waves at Buckbeak, whose snout is covered in purpley-gray blood.

"I want you to really think about what you're asking," Hiyori says. "Think hard."

Yato casually strokes Buckbeak's flank, feeling the warm feathers flatten under his hand. The animal, unconcerned, attacks again and again the slab of unidentifiable meatflesh.

"I think everything through."

The hippogriff's beak tears through the meat again with a revolting _rrrip_ , and both humans wince.

"Well…maybe we should let him finish," Yato admits. As though doing his best to accommodate, Buckbeak tosses the remaining bloody hunk into the air and catches it in his mouth, throat convulsing as he swallows it whole. Hiyori quickly covers her mouth.

"Ha…okay…" Yato smiles weakly. He clears his throat, ignoring the sharp pangs in his crooked nose. "Well...ah. Erm. Now you just have to bow."

Hiyori graces him with another long, supremely doubtful gaze, then slowly bends at the waist toward the hippogriff.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she mutters. The back of her neck is bright pink. Yato smirks.

The muscles in Buckbeak's neck stretch under Yato's hand as the huge creature lowers itself, matching Hiyori's bow.

"Welcome to our little team, Iki Hiyori," Yato says, grinning hugely as she straightens again. Something warm dribbles down over his lips.

"You two should make friends. I'm going to go to the hospital wing now."


	3. The Incident With the Hippogriff

"This is Hiyori!" Yato says, smiling broadly and waving her forward.

"I know," Kiun responds. Then no one says anything.

The pause continues.

And continues.

"She's, ah, going to help me," Yato begins uncomfortably, when suddenly Hiyori herself shoves past him. She declares:

"I'm here as a concerned citizen, because I'm afraid Yato isn't capable of providing the highest quality care for such a rare and magnificent creature as a hippogriff."

Hiyori folds her hands neatly behind her back, and even though Yato can't see her face, he's sure it's arranged in a winning smile.

Kiun blinks down at her, obviously unprepared for such enthusiasm.

"Ah...yes. Well, Miss Iki, though your concerns are...appreciated, I did intend to assign this to Yato as detention-"

"Fully deserved, I'm sure," Hiyori agrees, shooting a wry grimace at Yato. He whistles innocently.

"However," Kiun says, stroking his chin in thought. "If you are set on the task, I don't see the harm in letting you assist."

He gives them both one more suspicious glance, then leads them around the back of the cottage.

Yato falls into step beside Hiyori, whispering:

"You laid it on a bit thick, didn't you?"

She has her mouth set in a serious line, but Yato finds the creases around her lips that betray genuine amusement.

"Not at all. I'd be afraid for any creature you were in charge of."

: : :

Yato hadn't gotten much farther past the "introduce her to Buckbeak" stage of his plan, but the rest seems to take care of itself.

To his surprise, Hiyori actually shows up after the first day. Yato finds her waiting for him at the edge of the forest behind Kiun's cabin.

"I just...I like animals!" she says defensively.

They fall into a routine over the next few days. Hiyori delightedly grows accustomed to grooming Buckbeak's sleek feathers and feeding him his treats, while Yato sighs, picks up his shovel, and sets to work.

"I think he really likes you," he says, a degree of resentment creeping into his voice.

For the last few minutes he's been watching Hiyori whisk a steak through the air with a levitating charm. Buckbeak canters after it, playfully snapping his beak.

"Really?!"

Distracted, she turns toward Yato, and the steak plops down on the ground. Buckbeak pokes at it, as though testing whether it will fly off again. He gives the hippogriff equivalent of a shrug and begins his feast.

"You think he likes me?" Hiyori asks again. Yato chuckles.

"Of course. You think he'd let me toy with his dinner like that? I'd be missing a finger."

He flinches at the sound of Buckbeak savagely ripping the steak apart.

"Or an arm."

Hiyori glances affectionately over at the hippogriff. A soft smile plays with the edges of her mouth, and warmth starts to creep up Yato's neck. He snatches the shovel from the ground.

"No, my designated duty is obviously...this," he says. He forces a laugh and hopes his blush is hidden by the redness of exertion.

"You're good at more than that, though," Hiyori says after a moment. The shovel pauses. "You're good at flying."

Yato looks up at her.

"Ah...thanks?"

"I, erm, I mean..." Hiyori looks flustered, as though her sudden compliment had shocked even her. "What I mean is, you've got a lot more than...y'know...that." She waves in the general direction of the dung heap.

"Hm. How comforting." Yato plants a hand on his hip.

"No, I-that isn't-! You know what I mean."

Crimson with embarrassment, Hiyori stabs her wand toward the half-eaten steak. It twitches under Buckbeak's nose, and he snorts in annoyance.

"I don't, actually," says Yato, grinning evilly. "Please continue. I'm wild with curiosity. Have you admired my flying for long now?"

Hiyori glares at him, but this time he's not worried she'll hex him into the hospital wing. Her eyes drop, and she fixes her gaze on his feet.

"Yes, actually."

The grin slides off his face.

"What?"

"I'm not saying it again." Hiyori pushes her hair in front of her face.

"No, really." Yato lets the shovel's handle drop with a thunk. "What?! Where did that oh-so-fun, 'I-swear-to-hate-you-until-my-dying-day' attitude go?"

Hiyori starts walking over to Buckbeak. Yato can only see her back.

"I think that attitude may have faded a bit since I broke your nose," she says, still facing away from him.

"Which you haven't apologized for, by the way," he retorts, trying to ignore the weirdly warm feeling in his stomach.

Hiyori flicks her wand, and a chunk of muddy turf zooms straight at Yato. He dodges just in time, but it still hits him squarely on the shoulder. Mud and bits of grass cling in clumps to his robe as the rest slides down and plops to his feet.

"Sorry," Hiyori says, pushing her knuckles into her mouth to hide her grin.

Yato stares: first at the mud dripping down his robe, and then to Hiyori. He slips his own wand out of his sleeve.

"You have just made a very serious mistake, Hiyori Iki."

: : :

Kiun doesn't say anything for a very long time.

Yato and Hiyori stand facing him, both with bowed heads. Their hands are clasped penitently behind their backs. Their robes are plastered with mud and wet grass. Hiyori has half the forest in her hair.

Kiun clicks his tongue.

"It was me," Hiyori blurts out. "I started it."

From the corner of his eye, Yato shoots her a shocked glance. Underneath the mud streaks, her cheeks are brilliantly red. She's probably never gotten in trouble with a teacher before.

Trying not to make her feel worse, Yato quickly schools his face into something like repentance. He purses his lips to hide a pleased smirk.

Kiun sighs.

"I wasn't going to ask."

He waves them off with an order to clean themselves up. Before turning away, Yato catches the crease of a smile on Kiun's face.

Halfway up to the school, Hiyori exhales loudly and her shoulders droop with relief.

"I can't believe he just let us go."

Yato nods, and reaches over to pluck her sleeve.

"Thanks for that, though."

Then, smiling and reaching up to stroke his perfectly healed nose: "It almost made up for the nose thing."

She glances over at him, and he prepares for another sharp comeback. Instead, she says:

"Well...I figured you'd probably already gotten enough detention to last you for a while."

"Or you just like me," Yato drawls.

Hiyori punches him in the shoulder. Gently, this time.

"You really need to learn to stop while you're ahead."

: : :

The sun is already kissing the mountains behind the school when Hiyori makes her way down from the castle. Yato has brought Buckbeak out into the open grass beyond the edge of the forest.

"We've got a surprise for you," he sings.

Hiyori glances around nervously, and Yato snorts.

"No, you'll like this. I promise."

He's not actually sure she will, but the idea has been burning in the back of his brain for too long to ignore. Yato stamps down his nerves, and turns to Buckbeak to pat his flank.

"Ready boy?"

The hippogriff chuffs, lowering down to his knees with a rustle of wings and feathers. Wasting no time, Yato clambers onto Buckbeak's slippery back.

"All right! Come on then!"

Hiyori stays exactly where she is, eyes glued to Yato and Buckbeak in disbelief.

"No thanks."

Crestfallen, Yato leans forward to let his arms dangle on either side of Buckbeak's head.

"You don't trust me?" he wheedles.

"Definitely not," she fires back.

"Well…" Yato hums, reevaluating. "Then, do you at least want to watch as I fall to my death?"

Hiyori hesitates for a few more seconds. Then, she squares her shoulders, walks forward, and scrambles onto the hippogriff's back behind him.

"That I can't miss."

Yato's face splits in a broad grin, which, if Hiyori could see it, would fill her with dread.

At the urging of Yato's knees, Buckbeak lurches to his feet. Hiyori squeaks, plastering herself to Yato's back and locking her arms around his waist. His insides do a flip-flop that he's almost sure has nothing to do with motion sickness.

"Okay." He clears his throat. Hiyori's arms tighten around him.

"Um. Hang on," he says stupidly, and feels another twinge of uncertainty as he looks at the hippogriff's smooth, feathered neck. There's...not much to "hang on" to.

Before he can figure out where to put his hands, Buckbeak launches them into the sky.

Hiyori screams, clinging desperately to Yato's back and practically wrapping her legs around him. She buries her face in the back of his robe, hiding her eyes. The Forbidden Forest, patchworked with the icy blue of pine needles and the skeletal brown of empty winter trees, drops steeply out from beneath them. Tears squeeze out of Yato's eyes at the sheet of brutally cold air assaulting his face and neck.

However, once Buckbeak achieves a decent height, he levels off. His enormous wings fan out, riding the air currents.

Yato can tell his stomach is still finding its way back down to its proper place after that first terrifying leap. But, with his feet firmly hooked in front of Buckbeak's wings, he ventures to gaze out at their surroundings.

"Hiyori, look up!" he calls back to her over the rush of wind.

She crushes her face between his shoulderblades and gives a small shake, "no."

Yato blinks against the frigid wind, craning himself over Buckbeak's shoulder to look below them. A few people are walking up toward the castle, and Yato can't believe how tiny they are.

"Hey, Hiyori, are you seeing this?"

"Yes," she squeaks, her forehead still firmly attached to the back of his shirt.

"Come on, look around!"

"Are we on the ground again?"

Yato pauses.

"...No?"

"Then I'm not looking."

He sighs.

He hooks his heels securely over Buckbeak's wings, bringing his hands off the hippogriff's neck. Finding Hiyori's, fisted in the front of his robe and white from her grip, he works on prying her fingers out of the fabric. She jerks, whether from surprise or fear he can't tell.

Yato at last frees her hands from his robe. He intertwines his fingers with hers, resting both sets of hands against his stomach.

Her hands are smaller than his, and very warm.

"Will you please look now?"

Against the back of his neck, Hiyori takes a deep breath. Finally, she lifts her head-and she gasps.

"Oh."

In viewing the panorama that unfolds beneath Buckbeak's wings, Yato nearly forgets the ache in his legs, and how the biting cold still drags tears from his eyes.

The lake spreads underneath them, completely frozen over and fracturing the dying sunset into a million shards of piercing green and ice white. As they watch, awestruck, the horizon fades, melting the sky into a cloudless mural of blue and purple.

Yato only realizes his mouth has fallen open when something flies down his throat. He coughs.

"You know, we'll probably get in trouble for this," he confesses. He still has to shout over the wind, but it seems right to warn her before they land.

Hiyori's hands squeeze inside his. "I don't really care."

His chest leaps, and he squeezes back.

The sun goes down, and the sky darkens to indigo. Underneath them, the lake turns to ink. Yato feels a weight settle between his shoulderblades again.

"You still looking?" He cranes his neck over his shoulder to check on her.

Hiyori has rested the side of her face against his back, her left temple pressed to the nape of his neck. All he can see is her forehead, which seems to be quite pink-probably from the cold.

"Yes," she answers quietly. Her eyelashes tickle the back of his neck. Yato clears his throat and looks forward again.

After they cross the lake, Buckbeak wheels in a wide curve. They fly back toward the school, its solid, turreted silhouette a black monster against the navy sky. In many of the windows, golden lamps are twinkling.

"We could really scare some people right now," Yato says, eyeing the low, wide window of the Hufflepuff common room. Yukine's favorite study spot is at the table right next to that same window.

Behind him, Hiyori shifts her weight.

"I miss flying."

Her hands tighten within his, and Yato ventures another look over his shoulder. She's lifted her head again, and gazes at the school with a wistfulness that makes his chest ache.

"You're doing pretty well right now," he says. Hiyori looks from the school to him, and breaks into a smile.

"Yeah...I guess I am."

Above them, in the tilting sky, the stars start to come out. Buckbeak snorts gently, and turns back toward the Forbidden Forest.

: : :

By the time they reach the ground again, Yato can't feel his nose or his lips or the tips of his ears. Even though Buckbeak brings them down into as smooth a landing as possible, Yato still has to peel his hands away from Hiyori's and clutch the feathers in front of him to avoid being jostled off.

Once they stop, he slides ungracefully down Buckbeak's side, hitting the ground a little harder than he intended. Pain shoots up his shins.

"Oof!"

He turns around to help Hiyori, only to find that she's already on the ground next to him. Buckbeak straightens from his crouch and looks up at Yato with bright, innocent eyes. Yato scowls.

"Oh, so she gets the princess treatment while I have to break my legs?"

Hiyori laughs brightly, patting the hippogriff's beak, and Yato's annoyance drains from him with alarming speed.

"Thank you," she says softly.

Yato kicks mindlessly at the turf, then looks up to see Hiyori watching him expectantly. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"O-oh! You mean me?"

"Yes of course," she says, tilting her head to the side as though questioning how one person could possibly be so daft.

Yato flounders.

"I thought-maybe, you meant featherhead here-"

"No, Yato. Thank you."

Suddenly, Yato goes from feeling very cold, to very warm.

Very, very warm indeed.

As they walk up to the castle, Yato remembers something that had slipped his mind for the past few days.

"Can I ask you something, Hiyori?"

Hiyori comes to a dead stop.

"I suppose you can."

Yato utterly misses the tension in her tone.

"Well," he begins, turning toward her and scratching his chin. "I happen to know from personal experience that you're pretty great with stunning spells."

Hiyori's eyelid twitches.

"Oh...right. Sorry about that, too."

Yato waves his hands in front of her.

"No, no! I'm not looking for an apology! I mean, I did hit you full-speed on a Firebolt, so..." he trails off as Hiyori holds up a hand, turning to face him with her jaw set in determination.

"Well, I'm apologizing anyway. It was an overreaction, and I am very sorry."

She says it quite loudly, as though worried he won't hear her. Even in the dark, Yato notices the redness creeping up from her shirt collar.

"Uh, well, th-thank you." He has to find his way back to his original thought after being momentarily disoriented by Hiyori's intensity.

"I was just going to...maybe ask if you could help a friend of mine with something. He's been having trouble with his stunning spells, and I promised him a favor a while back, and, well…"

Hiyori's face falls, her gaze dropping all the way down to her muddy shoes. Yato trails off again, this time in concern.

"Oh," she says hollowly.

Something feels very wrong. Hiyori's shoulders have caved in, making her seem even smaller, more fragile than usual. He starts reaching out to touch her arm-

She lifts her head quickly, and Yato's arm drops back to his side.

"So! You wanted to ask me to help your friend?" she asks, making a gargantuan effort to sound cheerful about it.

Yato wonders why his tongue is so heavy. "Yes?"

Somehow, her shoulders droop even lower. Yato couldn't be more perplexed and dismayed than if he were being quizzed by Professor Tenjin himself and getting every answer wrong.

"I'd be happy to," Hiyori mutters miserably.

Then she turns away and starts trudging up to the castle without him. Yato blinks, his head swimming with horrified panic.

He'd said something wrong-something unforgivable-but what?! All he'd done was make one little promise to Yukine to ask Hiyori about her stunning spells, and now he'd asked her, and she'd said...yes...

Suddenly, Yato pounds his knuckles into his forehead. Merlin's beard, he was such an idiot.

"Hiyori! Wait!"

He finds himself panting by the time he catches up to her, even though she slows down to wait for him. His pulse is skittering like a frantic spider.

"My friend," he gasps out, "-his name's Yukine-he's erm, he's just a second-year. I've been looking out for him, y'know. Really slow when it comes to applied spellwork, you wouldn't believe what happened when he tried to levitate his cat, we still can't figure out how to get the tail to grow back-"

Hiyori arches an eyebrow at him. Yato feels himself starting to ramble. He draws in a shuddering breath, dragging his hands through his hair in desperation.

"What I mean is...w-would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me-us! I mean-me and Yukine…"

A slow dawning of realization blossoms on Hiyori's face. Yato shuts his eyes.

"Mostly me," he mutters.

She laughs again. It's such a nice sound that he almost keeps his eyes closed to listen to it. But he opens them again, because he's already made quite enough of a lunatic of himself in front of her.

"Will we be traveling by Firebolt?" she asks, smiling at him.

Yato huffs a laugh.

"Definitely not."

"Than yes." Hiyori's eyes sparkle, and his heartbeat stutters.

"I would love to."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!** (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	4. The Incident At the Three Broomsticks

**Surprise! Chapter 4 happened! Hope you enjoy the remorseless fluff~**

* * *

Yukine rushes along the abandoned corridor, slinging his Hufflepuff scarf haphazardly around his neck. His designated meeting spot with Yato is beneath one of the gargoyles—affectionately and accurately nicknamed "One-Eyed Carl."

He turns a corner, sees Yato waiting under One-Eyed Carl, and lets out a yelp.

"Merlin's beard, did you sleep?"

The older boy's eyes are sunken pools of exhaustion, but he nods. His mouth promptly stretches in a yawn big enough to swallow the castle and most of the lake along with it. Yukine shakes his head.

"Good thing Hiyori already knows you're mental," he observes. Yato groans, turning to fall face-first against the stone wall.

"Why—did—I—think—this—was—smart," he moans, punctuating each word with a thump of his forehead against the wall. Yukine hauls him away before he can bruise himself.

"Don't be daft. If we're this late, she's going to think we're not coming."

As they walk quickly through the corridors and toward the castle's entrance, Yukine does not find Yato's dead stare to be the least bit encouraging. He finds himself pondering if a good slap would be efficient.

"I can't believe I have to pep talk you," he grumbles, flicking a speck of gargoyle dust from Yato's shoulder. "After you've been going on about this for weeks."

Yato sighs impressively.

"Yes…but I kind of thought the castle would catch fire before that, and I could rescue her from a flaming death instead."

Yukine snorts.

"You can save her life, but you can't go with her on a"—he lifts his fingers to heavily air-quote— "'date'?"

Yato nods again, his expression somehow both contemplative and miserable. Yukine huffs, tugging Yato along behind him as they approach the castle's front door.

: : :

Hiyori first spots them through the crowd of students making their way past Professor Tsuyu. Yukine seems to have Yato leashed by the front of his robes, and Yato himself has the demeanor of someone being marched into Azkaban for a life sentence. The pits of deep gray under his eyes suggest he hasn't seen sleep since the weekend.

Hiyori ignores these discouraging observations, elbowing her way forward to greet them.

"Hi, Yukine!"

She gives him a short hug, then turns to his companion. Up close, Yato's skin has an unfortunate greenish tinge, and he looks like he might be ill all over his clean robes.

"Hello Yato," Hiyori says dubiously.

She doesn't approach him for a hug, but offers her hand instead. Yato casts a panicked glance at Yukine, who has found something very important to stare at in the rafters. At last, he gingerly takes Hiyori's hand, handling it like he would an easily startled reptile.

Tsuyu gives them a meaningful glance. Nearly everyone else has already passed through the front door and had their names cleared for the Hogsmeade visit.

Yukine elbows Yato, and he drops Hiyori's hand quickly. Swallowing the pang of hurt at the back of her throat, she lines up in front of him to exit the castle.

After they make their way past Tsuyu and her checklist, Hiyori pretends not to notice the vicious and completely silent argument Yato and Yukine are having behind her. After appearing to lose, Yato shrinks deeper into his robes, snuggling the Slythern scarf up over his nose. He lags behind them on the snow-packed road.

Yukine trots ahead to keep up with Hiyori's longer strides.

"So, where do you usually go first in Hogsmeade?" he asks in a too-bright voice.

"Yama always makes us take her to Madam Puddifoot's tea shop," Hiyori says, and bestows a smile upon Yukine for his valiant effort at conversation. At the smile, Yukine promptly turns the rich, luminous orange of a ripe pumpkin. Behind them, Yato gives an obscene snort.

" _But_ ," Hiyori continues, maintaining perfect composure, "I'd like to try the Three Broomsticks this time, if that's all right with you."

"You've never been to the Three Broomsticks?!" Yukine asks in shock.

Hiyori gives a wry smile and shakes her head, thinking him fortunate for being spared Yama's obsession with Madame Puddifoot and her overwhelmingly pink tea shop. From behind them, Yato makes a small noise that sounds like a cat being stepped on. Hiyori turns her head.

"Something wrong?"

She catches the flash of panic in his eyes before he returns them to his toes, and the ill, suspicious feeling in the pit of her stomach yawns wider.

Yato is not himself today—and Hiyori suspects it is her fault.

She turns back to Yukine, asking him some mindless questions about his classes. He answers her with enthusiasm, and as a result she is required to do very little talking until they arrive in the town.

Once the lopsided rooftops and smoky chimneys of Hogsmeade emerge among the snowbanks, Yukine immediately drags Yato and Hiyori into an ancient, swaybacked bookshop before either of them can protest. He comes out with seven new texts on Herbology, all of them dirt-cheap and colossally dusty. Yukine staggers under the books' weight as the three of them walk along the town's thoroughfare.

"I guess Yama isn't the only one who prefers Madam Puddifoot's," Hiyori observes, watching Kofuku's pink head bouncing toward the tea shop, a resigned Daikoku in tow.

Neither Yato nor Yukine hear her, as they are too busy bickering about the wisdom of spending all one's money on extra textbooks.

"Oh, do shut up," urges Yukine. "You can criticize my choices once you stop begging me for help on all your homework."

Yato grits his teeth. "We have. A _library_ ," he growls.

"Which has none of these. Look, Yato— _The Herbologist's Grimoire, First Edition._ This isn't even in the restricted section."

Yato grunts. "Since when do you like magical plants so much, Yukine?"

Yukine stutters on his response, fumbles, and drops three of the books. Hiyori bends down to help pick them up and notices the tip of his nose has gone very pink.

"Shall we go somewhere warm?" she asks kindly, and Yukine gives her a grateful glance as she hands him the last book. He nods once, saying:

"Yeah, I think we should all warm up."

Hiyori looks up at Yato. He avoids her eyes, rubbing his gloved hands together and breathing into them.

"Sure," he says morosely. "Whatever you two want."

Hiyori's heart sinks into the tips of her boots. When she returns her gaze to the busy snow-covered road, the whole town of Hogsmeade starts to blur in front of her eyes. She blinks ferociously to clear her vision.

"Hey." Yukine tugs on her elbow.

Hiyori dashes her knuckles across her eyes, still trying to blink tears away as Yukine points toward the door of the Three Broomsticks.

"Kazuma's going in there—maybe we could catch up with him!"

Hiyori forces a smile. "That sounds good," she says. "I am looking forward to trying the butterbeer."

Yukine gives a generous sigh. "It's amazing."

Hiyori can feel Yato's silence, but she doesn't look back at him. The trio follows Kazuma's disappearing form into the pub.

: : :

As soon as they're inside, Yukine seizes the sleeve of Yato's robe and drags him behind the door.

"What in the bloody _hell_ are you doing?!" he whispers fiercely. There is little need to lower his voice in the loud pub—but Hiyori isn't too far away.

Yato collapses against the wall in despair, the back of his head colliding with a dull _thump_ against the wood.

"My best," he groans.

Yukine yanks him back by his collar, showing no remorse as Yato claws at his throat.

"Your 'best' is pathetic," he hisses. "By now Hiyori probably thinks you hate her! If you can't share an innocent butterbeer with her without falling apart, then I'm giving up on you entirely."

Yukine watches the last vestiges of hope drain from Yato's eyes at his cruel words.

"You're—you're leaving?" he whispers, his voice quavering in desperation.

"I told Suzuha I'd meet up with him today."

Yato's mouth levers open and shut.

"Y-you did _what?"_

"Yato, I can't chaperone you constantly!"

 _"Why not?!"_

Yukine frantically shushes Yato's agonized wail. He peeks around the door at Hiyori, who is turning around and around in the middle of the pub—presumably searching for them.

"Listen," he says. He ducks behind the door again to take Yato by the shoulders and give him a gentle shake. "Just _talk_ to her. Wasn't it fun when the two of you took care of Buckbeak?"

Yato gives a single nod, his expression forlorn.

"That was different, though," he moans.

 _"_ How, exactly?" Yukine growls. His patience can only take so much.

"I don't know," Yato says, his pitch creeping up into a whine. "Maybe that was back when I thought she was less—less cu—"

" _There_ you are!"

A hand lands heavily on Yukine's arm, and he lets go of Yato's shoulders. Whirling around, he finds himself confronted by a pink-cheeked and very aggravated Hiyori.

"Excellent to know you two are such reliable guides," she says, injecting venom into the last two words.

"I'm so sorry, Hiyori," Yukine says in all sincerity. "But I need to…er…run somewhere for a moment. Yato will stay here with you though. Right?"

He gives Yato a loaded look, and Yato returns him a stricken one. Without waiting for a response, Yukine ducks between the two of them and escapes outside into the bracing cold.

Suzuha is already there, leaning against the weathered outside wall and holding a package close to his chest. Seeing Yukine come out the door, he turns and smiles.

"Yukine!"

"Hey," Yukine says. His cheeks begin to turn cherry-red in the cold, and pulls his scarf up over his nose. "Sorry, that took a bit longer than I thought."

Suzuha shrugs. "I didn't mind waiting."

The two of them stand in awkward silence for a few moments before Suzuha clears his throat.

"I, erm, got you something," he says, holding the package out toward Yukine.

Yukine stares from Suzuha to the package and back again. He says: "Oh."

A rush of heat floods his face, making it easy to forget he's standing outside in midwinter.

Yukine slowly takes the package, tucking his new books under his arm in order to open it. Once he removes the lid, he sees inside a hibernating pygmy puff: snug and warmly nestled within several layers of fabric.

"I know you couldn't bring a cat with you to school," says Suzuha. "So I thought…maybe…"

"It's so cute," Yukine murmurs. He tickles the pygmy puff with one finger. It squeaks, burrowing deeper into its nest.

Yukine looks up, beaming.

"I love it."

: : :

Meanwhile, Hiyori fast approaches a disappointing realization: the talkative, entertaining Yato of their hippogriff adventure is a completely different person from the morose, tight-lipped Yato who sits across from her. If she weren't so bloody uncomfortable, she might be tempted to feel sorry for him.

"So," she begins. "Yukine's taking quite a while in the bathroom, isn't he?"

Yato jerks his head up at the sound of her voice. He glances over to the bathroom's entrance. Floating serenely next to it, a jar shaped like a turnip has been enchanted to shout scathing insults at anyone caught trying to bypass the requisite three-Knut fee.

"Probably ate something weird," he mutters.

Hiyori nods sagely, then does her utmost to avoid thinking about Yukine's gastrointestinal tribulations. Fortunately, she finds a distraction in the table nearest them, where three Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff have just sat down with enormous mugs of something foaming and honey-colored. Her mouth waters.

"We don't have to wait for him," she points out. Yato does not respond.

Seconds pass. Then minutes. Hiyori's skin crawls with discomfort. She spares Yato another glance, and immediately wishes she hadn't. Going by the look on his face, he would rather be _anywhere_ else than here, or possibly dead.

Hiyori's elevated seat on a barstool gives her a good view of the rest of the rest of the pub, so she turns her attention away from her dour companion. For a few moments, she occupies herself by observing the rest of the room. Across the large, loud pub, she spots Professors Tenjin and Tsuyu sharing an amiable gillywater. Next to their table is a group of uncomfortable Slytherin sixth-years who are obviously hiding shots of firewhisky in their laps. Hiyori's eyes keep traveling across the room, eventually landing on a sight that twists her stomach in knots.

Kazuma and Bishamon share a small table in the very corner of the pub. As Hiyori watches, Bishamon bashfully twirls a lock of her hair around her fingers—rather shocking behavior for the notoriously un-bashful captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Kazuma leans forward to listen, his face rapt, completely captivated more with each word. On top of the scratched wooden tabletop, their hands rest half an inch apart.

Hiyori swallows the enormous lump in her throat, and hops down from the barstool.

"I'm leaving," she says tersely. She doesn't look at Yato. "Tell Yukine I hope he feels better."

As soon as she turns to go, one of the many servers carrying wide trays of drinks walks by, blocking her path.

In the bare moment she's stuck there against the table, a screeching of chair legs makes her jump. Someone seizes her wrist.

"Hiyori, wait."

She turns back, shocked. Yato has leapt down from his stool and grabbed her hand in both of his. His eyes are blown wide, desperation written all over his features. In Hiyori's ears, the noise level in the pub drops drastically.

"Stay a bit longer?" he asks quietly. "Please?"

The tips of his ears start to turn dark red. Hiyori gives her trapped wrist a feeble tug.

"Yato, I'm tired. I want to go back." She pauses. "I'm not…having a good time."

Her words have an unprecedented effect on him. His face crumples and he releases her wrist.

"I know," he says wretchedly. "I'm sorry."

Hiyori doesn't move, even though her hand is free once again.

"What's been going on with you?" she asks. "You've been…well, _dreadful_ today, and Yukine was trying so hard to make this a nice day for us all. And now he's ill—"

Hiyori cuts off, surprised at how quickly her misery has transformed into aggravation. This could have been such a wonderful time. It _should_ have been such a wonderful time.

It's all Yato's fault.

"No," Hiyori insists, though Yato has said nothing. Her voice climbs to an unpleasantly shrill note. "I'm going now. I hope you have a lovely time all by yourself, Yato."

His look of mute horror drops a boulder of guilt into her gut, but she stands straight, deepening her frown. After a split second of silence, she whirls away from him and in the direction of the bathrooms.

Yato calls after her: "Wh—Hiyori, where are you—"

"To check on Yukine, of course!" she hurls back at him. "Since I'm the only one who seems to care."

"No—wait a minute— _Hiyori_ , please."

Yato trips over a stool in his rush to catch up with her, and manages to catch her by the elbow as she is about to enter the bathrooms.

"He's not inside," Yato says breathlessly. "He's not even here anymore."

He makes an abstract, interpretive gesture toward the rest of the pub, indicating that Yukine is indeed nowhere to be seen.

During her moment of bewildered silence, the turnip jar floats gently up to them. When it becomes obvious that Yato and Hiyori are not about to pay the three-Knut fee, its toothy mouth opens wide, unleashing a volley of unrepeatable obscenities. They quickly scoot off to the side, which appeases the irate little turnip.

"What do you mean?" Hiyori asks, once the turnip's insults have stopped echoing in her ears. Her brow furrows. "You said he was—"

"I know," Yato interrupts. "I know. I, erm…lied." His mouth twists downward in a guilty frown.

Then, he massages his temples, muttering: "He's probably off talking about Venomous Tentacula, or picking shrivelfigs, or whatever he and that herby little friend of his do for fun."

Hiyori's brow furrows still further, adding this interaction to the long, long list of things Yato says that make exactly as much sense as the existence of Wrackspurts.

Yato gives his head a quick shake. Taking her other elbow, he pulls her slightly toward him, out of the path of a group of girls headed for the bathrooms. Yato seems numb to their stares and giggles, but Hiyori feels their eyes on her like needles in the back of her neck.

He holds her close to his chest as the group passes through the doorway, and Hiyori burns bright pink all the way from her collarbones to the top of her scalp. When the coast is clear, she pushes him away from her with enough force that he actually stumbles backward a step.

"Hiyori?" he asks with a stricken face.

To her utter dismay, moisture prickles the corners of her eyes. She scrubs her sleeve over her face and gives a short, harsh laugh.

"Sorry," she blurts. "I'll just—I'll just go. I wouldn't want you to feel—obligated to spend time with me, or anything."

A single drop trembles at the corner of her eyelid, sliding down her cheek before she can catch it with her sleeve.

"No!" Yato shouts, covered from head to toe in mortification. "Merlin's beard—no, Hiyori, that's not it at all!"

Hiyori tries to keep her nose covered with the sleeve of her robe as she sniffles determinedly, but Yato pulls her arm away from her face.

"I did everything wrong," he groans. "I'm so sorry. I wanted Yukine here because I was, erm—"

He chokes off, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. Fascinated, Hiyori lets a second tear go unwiped in favor of watching his face grow steadily darker.

"I was scared," Yato says. His voice is so quiet Hiyori can hardly hear it.

"Scared…" she repeats in disbelief.

"But that was a mistake," he says quickly. His hand tightens around hers. "I shouldn't have dragged Yukine into this, especially when—"

Once more, his voice suddenly chokes off. He tries again:

"When—when…"

Beads of sweat are actually forming on his forehead. One of his eyelids has started twitching spastically.

"Yato—" Hiyori begins, but he holds up one finger, determined to either finish his declaration or perish in the attempt. He lets go of her hand.

"When I…sort of…fancy you," he mumbles, his eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes.

The racket in the pub suddenly melts away, leaving nothing but the sound of Hiyori's heart thudding arrhythmically at the bottom of her throat.

"Oh," she says at last, her voice squeaking.

Both her ears and Yato's burn a matching shade of lobster red. Despite the silence, an unspeakable weight has lifted off Hiyori's chest. She feels light enough to float right off the ground.

Slowly—very slowly—a smile sneaks onto her lips.

"I'm rather thirsty," she says suddenly. She twists her fingers together, pressing her hands against each other to stop them trembling.

Yato's eyes snap from her shoes to her face. When he sees the smile she wears, his shoulders sag in relief.

"Yeah?" he asks hopefully.

"I've heard some good things about the butterbeer here," Hiyori says, feigning a casual tone. In a wave of shyness, her eyes dip away from Yato's, down to the messy knot of his tie. His Adam's apple bobs.

"It's all right," he says. Hiyori looks up again, only to see that his grin mirrors hers. "Although I'm partial to the tea at Madame Puddifoot's."

: : :

Several of the remaining customers at the Three Broomsticks glance upward in pleased surprise when a girl's sunny laughter chimes above the clamor.

The familiar sound captures Bishamon's attention, and she looks for its source. As soon as she finds it, her blood curdles in her veins.

Across the room, Hiyori Iki—Bishamon's friend and protegé (and future Quidditch champion, if she has anything to do with it)—is sharing a table with that insufferable Slytherin seeker.

And they are _fraternizing._

Bishamon watches in increasing anxiety as the seeker's hand begins to creep along the tabletop, closer and closer to where Iki's rests.

"Kazuma," she hisses, jerking her head in their direction. Kazuma turns slightly in his seat, enough for him to see what has Bishamon so upset. His eyes widen.

"We have to _do_ something," she insists, half-rising from her seat. Kazuma swivels his seat back, catching her wrist before she can storm over and snap Yato's neck.

"Maybe give it a few more minutes before you hex him through a wall?" he suggests mildly. Clenching her teeth, Bishamon sits back down.

Now that she looks a bit closer, Yato isn't behaving at all like the arrogant boy she knows from the Quidditch pitch. He leans over the table, completely engrossed in whatever Iki is telling him. His eyes never break away from her face.

With a jolt, Bishamon recognizes the intense, almost hungry expression on his face. It's exactly the same as the one he wears when he's chasing the Snitch.

Kazuma notices she's still staring behind him, and once more he turns around—just in time to see Yato close the last crucial distance between his hand and Iki's. When his hand covers hers, Iki's face turns an instant and furious shade of pink.

Kazuma returns to his butterbeer with a chuckle. He mutters something under his breath that Bishamon doesn't catch.

"What was that?" she asks.

His eyes, crinkled with amusement behind thick glasses, flicker up to hers. There is something deep and yearning in them. Flustered, Bishamon drops her gaze to her own empty drink.

"Nothing, Viina," he says quietly. "Nothing important."

: : :

Yato keeps a firm hold on Hiyori's elbow as the two of them trundle through the unpacked snow. Ahead of them, the Shrieking Shack's sharp angles and jutting beams appear among the snowdrifts. The haunted building is a black gash in the landscape of sprawling white.

"Yato, I've seen this place before," Hiyori points out. "And it's not exactly, erm—a dynamic view."

"But you've never seen it in the snow!" Yato exclaims, his face alight with childlike glee. Hiyori stumbles along next to him, trying to keep pace with his longer legs.

Suddenly, her foot encounters a particularly stubborn snowdrift, and she cries out, toppling into Yato's side. He catches her around the waist, holding her upright as she works her leg out of its snowy depths.

"Thanks," Hiyori says, breathing heavily from the effort of freeing herself. To keep her balance, she had grabbed Yato around the neck, clinging to him as the fresh, powdery snow nearly dragged her to the ground.

Now that she's free, she should probably let go.

"Are you all right?" Yato asks. Hiyori's fingers brush against the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands are against her waist and back, still holding her close to him.

"I'm fine," she breathes.

Between the winter sky and Yato's eyes, there is almost too much blue for Hiyori to think straight. Her breath turns to mist in the frigid air, crystallizing like microscopic diamonds.

"D-did I ask you if you were all right?" Yato asks after a few seconds, his voice shaking. Hiyori nods once, unable to unlock her gaze from his.

Suddenly, Yato's head snaps forward, nearly cracking their foreheads together. He swears—a prolonged and creative series of words, most of which Hiyori has never heard before—while shaking a great deal of snow out of his dark hair. The remains of a firmly packed snowball slide down the back of his robes and plop into the snow.

Behind Yato, Hiyori sees two heads—one blond and one dark—disappear behind a tall snowdrift.

"Who the hell would hit _me_ with a snowball?" Yato asks in irritation, stomping around and shaking his robes to get the last of the snow out of them.

"Maybe it was someone else you hit with a Firebolt," Hiyori innocently suggests.

"H-hey! Not fair!"

"Well then, maybe it's someone who lives around here." She grins wickedly, sliding her wand out of her sleeve. "Or maybe…some _thing_."

Yato glares at her, his eyes narrowing to cold slits. "You're not suggesting…"

While Yato's attention is diverted by Hiyori, another snowball zooms from behind the snowdrift. Flicking her wand, Hiyori skillfully misdirects it. It still hits him, but this time it comes from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Yato yelps, dancing around in the snow and patting himself down in search of his wand.

"I am _not_ being snowballed by a ghost!" he shouts, even as his gaze flits nervously toward the abandoned building. Loud laughter erupts from behind the snowdrift, and Hiyori manages to cover it with an authentic-sounding coughing fit.

"I'm sure it was just the wind," she assures him after both the laughing and coughing have subsided. Yato sidles away from the fence that divides them from the Shrieking Shack, edging closer to Hiyori.

The next time she looks toward the giggling snowdrift, Hiyori's jaw drops. A small mountain of powdery snow now levitates seven feet off the ground, and as she watches, thunderstruck, it begins meandering through the air toward her and Yato.

"Um, Yato." She tugs on his robe, but he is still regarding the Shrieking Shack through skeptically narrowed eyes.

"I could beat some ghosts," he mutters, starting to roll up his sleeves.

Meanwhile, the floating snow-mountain steadily approaches.

"Yato!" Hiyori grabs his chin, jerking his face around to look where she's pointing.

He takes one look at the floating snow-mountain, then lets out an earsplitting shriek. Seizing Hiyori's hand, he makes a break for it, and once more she is dragged along behind him.

: : :

Behind the snowdrift, Yukine and Suzuha collapse into hysteria. The pile of snow they had both been struggling to levitate crashes heavily to the ground. In the distance, they both hear Hiyori trying to pacify Yato, who—from the sound of it—seems to be sobbing gently into her shoulder.

"That wasn't exactly the plan," Suzuha wheezes, holding his aching ribs with one hand and wiping away tears with the other.

Next to him, Yukine snorts.

"I should have known Yato would run away screaming rather than manage to look cool in front of a girl."

"Is he gonna be mad?" Suzuha asks.

"Nah," Yukine says offhandedly, chancing another look around the edge of the snowdrift. "If anything, he should probably thank me."

With his escape hindered by the deep snow, Yato has indeed resorted to burying his face in Hiyori's robes. As she pats his back in resignation, Yukine catches her throwing reproachful looks in the direction of their snowdrift.

He scrambles back into hiding and looks over at Suzuha. A sunny grin splits his face.

"Yeah," Yukine says, bursting into laughter again. "He should definitely be thanking me."


End file.
